


Poinsettias

by WordsByMarcy



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Don't copy to another site, First Kiss, Flowers, Fluff, Killua's still an assassin, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, They're both 18, Wrote this for my boywife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28711224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsByMarcy/pseuds/WordsByMarcy
Summary: Poinsettias, better known to Killua as Christmas stars — and Nochebuenas in Spanish, which he prefers. It’s a breathtaking flower that blooms in winter, with eye-catching reds decorating it’s long and wide leaves, far more enchanting and dangerous than the scarlets that drip at night through Killua’s pale fingers. It’s the only red he will ever want to see, and a flower he desperately wants to give.Alluka loves poinsettias. She personally calls them Nochebuenas, her Spanish was the best after all. Killua’s willing to steal anyone’s wallet to buy her some, he wants to give her at least one good Christmas present that doesn’t involve escaping their vacation home in Mexico. Plus, they really need the cash either way, so it's killing two birds with one stone — really.((Or the one were Killua's looking for potential people to steal from, and Gon seems to be the perfect candidate as he's the one who approaches Killua first)).
Relationships: Alluka Zoldyck & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 18
Kudos: 78





	Poinsettias

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kittycats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittycats/gifts).



> So I wrote this story for the birth of my wonderful friend Kitty!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> ♡♡ HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY PEACH, I KNOW THIS ONE CAME LATE BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT ♡♡  
> Thank you for being there since the start uwu may your days be filled with sunflowers and plums.
> 
> I'm mentioning flowers in this fic soooo I hope you guys are ready!!!! This is definitely not my best work but I tried really hard for my Kitty so I hope it's enough ( ◡‿◡ )

**Poinsettias**  
By: WordsByMarcy

* * *

  
  
There are poinsettias adorning every corner of Killua’s house — and there are poinsettias adorning the skin of his cheeks as he runs from it. These bright crimson leaves blooming across his face make him feel alive, make him feel _human_. 

The tight grip of his sister’s hand is the only thing that grounds Killua as they continue to run away from a home of painful memories. Alluka’s hand is cold against his, and if they were to stop, he’s sure he’d feel it trembling. 

_Killua’s heart_ is trembling.

He’s terrified, much more terrified than being responsible for bruising a beating heart. Bruising it till it stops beating in his hands. It would be selfish, he supposes, to be afraid of his own life while ending others like it’s as easy as blowing a candle. 

It _would_ be selfish, hypocritical. 

_Killua doesn’t give a damn._ He's not doing this for himself, anyways. He’s doing it for Alluka, he’ll only ever allow himself to be selfish for her. She’s all he cares about, and there was no better Christmas present for her than running away from home. 

Okay, _fine,_ maybe it’s a shit Christmas present, whatever, he’ll fix it — but he knows this is what they both needed, especially her. Killua was a weapon and Alluka pulled the trigger, that’s how their family used them, how they trained assassins. But now that he’s finally eighteen, he gets to be the one who calls the shots. He can get a good job, he’s smart, he’ll manage. He’ll make enough to make sure Alluka finishes highschool. He’ll buy her new clothes, get a place to stay, put food on their table...although, perhaps they won’t get to eat today _today._ Nor tomorrow. 

You see, Killua’s wallet is full of credit cards, but not _cash._ He can’t just say _fuck it_ and start purchasing food with his family’s credit card. They’ll know they’ve escaped and they’ll know _where_ they went. Killua’s not about to leave a trail of breadcrumbs after he’s come this far, and if he gets too desperate he’ll probably just steal someone’s wallet without Alluka noticing. 

Can’t commit a crime worse than murder, so what’s a stolen wallet or two gonna do. 

Still, he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there because, _right now,_ he’s trying to make it as far away as possible before Alluka’s legs give out. 

“...K-Kil...K-Killua…”

And it looks like they’re already giving out. 

Far ahead Killua can see a park with a couple of benches. His eyes swiftly examine the abundance of leaves on the trees and promptly concludes that they’ll be good enough as cover. They’ve been running non-stop for a few hours and though Killua could go for more, he knows it’s imperative that Alluka rests. She was the brains behind every operation after all, not the brawns.

They eventually come to a halt once they reach the entrance of the park and Alluka’s eyes immediately go to find Killua’s, almost pleading for an answer. _Where?_

“Fourth one on our left,” Killua replies to her unspoken question between breaths. 

Alluka’s eyes finally come to life with relief, “Thank fucking Christ,” she mumbles with a broken breath. Her trembling legs take her towards the bench Killua had pointed out while his eyes momentarily scout the place, looking for possible hiding spots and escape routes. He was exceptional at thinking on his feet after all, even more than Alluka.

With a satisfied grunt Killua allows his feet to take him towards the bench where Alluka rested. She’s sitting down, face on her hands and eyes closed while her hair cascades across her shoulders like a curtain. It’s not until Killua’s a few steps in front of her that he realizes she’s crying, her shoulders slightly shaking while broken sobs forcefully escape her lips. 

Killua’s heart bruises, and he promptly wonders if this is the type of pain he’s been inflicting on others. 

“Alluka,” he whispers as he kneels down in front of her, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

 _“Everything,”_ she sobs as her shoulders begin to shake more.

Killua’s arms immediately reach out to hold her, terrified of seeing her crumble apart. But he’ll pick up the pieces if he needs to, piece her back together like she always does for him. Killua’s always been shattered glass, but Alluka’s never been afraid to bleed — she’s been there for him from time to time, and now it’s his turn to be holding her.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Killua tries to soothe her while gently rubbing circles on her back, “we’ll be alright. We always are.”

“I-I’m….I’m sorry,” Alluka cries against his shoulder, “It’s my fault, isn’t it.”

“It has never been your fault,” Killua assures her, swallowing his own tears.

“But I’m ruining Christmas—”

“—No,” Killua interrupts with both hands on her shoulders to gently push her towards the back of the bench. “Hey, look at me, _please,”_ he softly requests.

Alluka removes her trembling hands from her face, finally opening her already swollen and reddened eyes. Her tears make her blue eyes look like a river, and Killua’s heart has never ached as painfully as right now. He’d give anything to make her smile instead. 

“You cannot ruin an already ruined Christmas,” Killua says while holding her hands. “They ruined everything we could ever have, everything but us.”

Alluka nods in agreement, squeezing both her hands.

“Plus, it was me who decided to escape today,” Killua admits while looking down at their joined hands, “You know, since we’re in fucking Mexico and not back home.”

“Because it would be harder to track us down here?”

“Yes.”

“Hmmm smart.”

 _“Not quite,”_ Killua half-heartedly chuckles, letting go of one of Alluka’s hands to carefully wipe away her tears. “I still need to figure out where the airport is.”

Alluka perks up at that, “planning on calling Ikalgo?”

“Yeah, or Palm, whoever gets here first and gets us out.”

Alluka gives him a crooked smile, it’s a bit broken _but she’s smiling._ “You’re so smart,” she tells him with the last couple of tears rolling down her cheeks. Killua’s sleeves catch them, “not as smart as you,” he replies back with his own broken smile.

* * *

After settling down for a few moments, and drinking some much needed water from the park’s water fountain, Killua and Alluka start working on a plan to get out of Mexico and into a country their family hasn’t visited yet — which was, needless to say, very difficult. With a job like theirs and the money they’ve made, Killua could say he’s been to almost every corner of the world. _Almost._

They made a list, the problem was figuring out which one was the safest option. And, of course, how they'll even get there. How referring to, _with whose money?_

“Let’s call Palm,” Alluka suggests, mindlessly playing with the chunks of fallen paint from the bench. “She’s more organized than Ikalgo.”

Yes, calling Palm _would_ be the smart option here, but smart didn’t necessarily mean easy. Killua doesn’t feel like explaining himself to her, and Ikalgo would make this so much more easy on them. Emotionally speaking, of course. He didn’t ask too many questions, and cared just the right amount to make Killua feel at ease. Palm, on the other hand, cared way too much. And Killua didn’t want to be in debt with her anymore, he knows he’s been heavily relying on Palm since the moment they met. He owes her too much, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to return everything he’s been given. 

_“Killuaaaa,”_ Alluka whines while roughly pulling at his earlobe, “we cannot allow ourselves to overthink.” Killua grunts in feigned pain and Alluka lets go of his ear, “We don’t have the luxury.” 

“I know, _I know,”_ Killua sighs while dramatically rubbing the left side of his face, “you’re not old enough to pull ears, by the way.”

“And _you’re_ old enough to outgrow your emo phase,” Alluka scoffs.

“I do not have a fucking—”

“—Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she rolls her eyes, “we all know you’re a nerd.”

Killua drops his left hand on his lap and sends an annoyed frown at Alluka as she simply smirks in return. “So anyways,” Alluka tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, “what’s the plan before either Palm or Ikalgo arrive in Mexico.” 

“I guess I’ll start asking around for any nearby places to stay,” Killua looks around the park for the eighth time tonight, “you’ll get directions to the airport?” 

“Yup,” Alluka nods while popping the p. “Well,” she claps her hands as she abruptly stands up, ”let’s get started before I get even more depressed over not being able to gift you anything this Christmas.” 

_“Pfft,_ I don’t need anything,” _I want to give you more._ He doesn’t tell her, but he knows she knows.

Alluka softly smiles at him, and it’s all blue. There’s sadness in the way the corner of her lips turn upwards, like her face is bruised in black and blues. There are no dimples, nor crinkles, only the blue in her eyes that tells the same story as his. 

_I truly want to give you more._

“Meet you back in 30?” Alluka asks as Killua stands up from the bench.

“Yes, don’t leave the park.” 

“Aye, aye.” 

* * *

Killua’s never stolen a wallet before, he didn’t need to. That being said, he _knows_ he can steal one. 

There’s a guy near the park who’s selling poinsettias in flowerpots. Killua doesn't know what this guy’s doing here in the middle of the night, selling a bunch of flowers, but he supposes this guy has his own story. Just like Killua has his.

Poinsettias, better known to him as Christmas stars — and Nochebuenas in Spanish, which he prefers. It’s a breathtaking flower that blooms in winter, with eye-catching reds decorating it’s long and wide leaves, far more enchanting and dangerous than the scarlets that drip at night through Killua’s pale fingers. It’s the only red he will ever want to see, and a flower he desperately wants to give. 

Alluka loves poinsettias. She personally calls them Nochebuenas, her Spanish was the best after all. Killua’s willing to steal anyone’s wallet to buy her some, he wants to give her at least one good Christmas present that doesn’t involve escaping their vacation home in Mexico. Plus, they really need the cash either way, so it's killing two birds with one stone — _really._ _Although, Killua is more concerned over getting Alluka some poinsettias rather than getting some food and a place to stay._ But no one needs to know that. 

After Killua’s eyes stop inspecting the seller and his poinsettias, he settles his gaze on the few people that surround the area. He’s not about to steal the flowers from a guy trying to make a decent living, so his victim must be from the people near the park.

 _Yes_ , someone who wouldn’t really mind losing a couple of bucks, or pesos since they’re in Mexico. Someone who looks like they’re doing fairly alright, someone Killua won’t feel guilty about, though he’ll feel guilty anyways. Perhaps an old dude with a face that screams trouble, or a businessman who surely makes enough to pay the rent. Or perhaps, maybe someone with sunflower eyes, golden petals that resemble the stars at night. Someone with drops of sunlight on their skin, sprinkled cinnamon on their cheeks. A guy who’d be stupid enough to approach him at midnight at a park. 

Someone with pink cheeks, pretty and dangerous like the oleander petals Killua used to poison his victims with. Or perhaps it’s Killua’s flushed cheeks who are deadly oleanders — this guy might look like he carries poinsettias in his. 

“Hey,” greets the guy stupid enough to be and do all these things, “I’m Gon.”

He really looks like summer incarnate, doesn’t he. With tears hot enough to scar his skin and — Killua can’t steal this guy’s wallet, _can he?_

“And…..?” Killua raises an eyebrow, carefully inspecting the other guy. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do, he was looking for a victim not waiting on one. 

“You are?” The guy named Gon stretches out his arm, as if guys their age shaked hands. Not that Killua would know, he’s really not sure what guys their age are supposed to do. Though he’s certain that it doesn’t involve meddling with the beating of a heart as if it were the ticking of a clock. 

“And why should I tell you?” Killua crosses his arms across his chest, rejecting Gon’s outstretched hand, not that he looked like he minded. In fact, Gon’s grin grew impossibly wider, as if he liked the challenge. 

_What an idiot,_ Killua really shouldn’t steal his wallet.

“Because I asked politely?” Gon offers with a cheeky smile, making Killua bite the inside of his cheek.

_Tch,_ whatever, this shit doesn’t work on Killua.

“I don’t owe you anything,” Killua looks to his right in feigned disinterest….okay, not feigned, he _isn’t_ interested. He wasn’t.

“I gave you mine,” Gon points out and though Killua can’t see his face, he knows he’s pouting. 

“Oh yeah,” Killua turns back at him, and _he’s right,_ the bastard _is_ pouting. Maybe he _should_ steal his wallet, “And why did you?”

“Because you’re pretty.” 

The silence is palpable as the melodic chirping from the crickets becomes the only reason it’s continuously interrupted. 

Gon’s shit at flirting, Killua knows it. He knows these are probably empty words, he can’t expect much from someone he just met. It’s shallow and he knows it _dammit._ But, for some reason, he can’t stop the heat from flowing through his face — can’t stop his heart from beating till it bruises his chest. 

_He swears he’ll steal this guy’s fucking wallet. He fucking will._

“Are you...flirting with me?” Killua huffs in disbelief. 

“I think so?” Gon tilts his head with a wondrous look on his face. _Who the fuck is this guy?_

“You think so,” Killua repeats his answer while Gon has the audacity to simply nod back at him.

Okay, so this guy might be cute, might be stupid, might be absolutely everything Killua’s been looking for, but not tonight. Killua can’t afford to count the petals in Gon’s eyes, he doesn’t have time. He’s not flirting while he could be stealing. 

And yeah, that definitely doesn’t sound like something a guy his age would say.

He’s about to open his mouth to stop the nonsense that is this conversation, _seriously who flirts with a random guy at midnight in the middle of a park,_ when Gon lifts his hand to gently caress the corner of Killua’s cheek.

“There are Nochebuenas,” Gon barely manages to whisper, eyes full of life. “Nochebuenas on your cheeks.”

Killua blinks twice as Gon’s face matches the flush on his cheeks. His golden eyes widen as he realizes what he just said — briskly pulling his hand back like the blush on Killua’s cheeks burned.

That wasn’t smooth, it wasn’t nice or pretty or _anything._ They weren’t the right words Killua’s been dying to hear at the wrong time. _They weren’t, it’s simply not true._

And Killua _will_ steal his wallet.

He’ll fucking steal it because it just isn’t fair, to suddenly appear and say all these things. To be spontaneously stupid and forward while Killua’s barely holding himself together. To make him feel like he’s not him, like he could be just about anyone — anyone without blood on his hands. Anyone with spare time on his clock. 

He’ll have his wallet, to solely remember that this wasn’t a stupid dream. And because he really needs his fucking money, he’s wasted enough of Killua’s time by making him gay panic. 

“Nochebuenas,” it’s the only thing Killua’s able to say back, “we call them poinsettias.”

He wasn’t going to say Christmas stars, kind of lame compared to Nochebuenas.

“Poinsettias,” Gon tests the word with relief flowing through his eyes, “that’s pretty.”

And the stars would agree, watching over them as something new blooms in the air. Everything’s green, it’s all green around them. The wet grass, the towering trees, the abundance of plants and Gon’s horrid shirt and just about everything he says. It’s all green — smells fresh, smells like pine and tastes like grapes. Tonight’s darkness is full of life, emotions growing green from watered seeds. It’s days like this that nature illuminates the night rather than the multitude of light posts in the park. 

“Why are you talking to me in English?” It’s the first question on Killua’s mind, right after _why are you even here?_ But not in an existential kind of way.

“Lucky guess that you’re not from around here?” Gon shrugs one shoulder, “I’m bilingual, the English took over me.” 

“I see.”

“Said the blind man.”

“What?”

“...Nothing.”

It’s probably been around fifteen minutes, meaning Killua has another fifteen to steal the wallet and go. To _just_ have the wallet and nothing more.

“So,” Gon sways his body back and forth in an attempt to appear casual, making Killua bite back a smile. “From _where_ are you?”

“Japan,” Killua simply replies, untangling his arms from across his chest — shoving his hands inside his pockets in an attempt to appear casual as well. He nails it, Gon should take notes.

“So...I can have that but not your name?” Gon dares to pout one more time. _Is he even near Killua’s age with all this whining?_

“Exactly that,” Killua nods his head, “you’re a stranger, for all I know you could be trying to steal my wallet—”

“—I wouldn’t!” Gon immediately interrupts in a panic, almost making him snort. “I just…,” Gon rubs the back of his head in embarrassment, eyes on the ground, “didn’t arrive to Christmas with my aunt in time...thought seeing you here was...umm…”

_Oh god,_ Killua’s stuck in a chick-flick, isn’t he?

“You’re about to say something embarrassing,” Killua says with newfound confidence, “aren’t you?”

_“Maybe—”_

“—Fine.”

“Fine?” Gon looks up at him in confusion.

“Yes, _fine,”_ Killua steps forward with resolve, eyes dangerously confident. 

He’ll get the wallet, he knows how to. And even though his plan is too forward for the shyness that blossoms in his heart, he’ll take a hold of those emotions and remain in control. After all, it’s the only thing he’s been taught.

“I’ll make it the Christmas you wanted,” but Killua’s mouth appears to have a mind of his own, a shy smile breaking through his features as it contrasts his determined stare. “Or whatever,” Killua ends up mumbling before cancelling out anything unrelated to Gon. 

Gon visibly swallows with widened eyes, “How—”

Killua grabs his collar and pulls Gon towards him, interrupting his sentence with a chaste kiss. 

_And It’s sweet._ He tastes sweet and Killua would do it all over again. Repeat it a thousand times if he could. Instead, he pulls back and simply says, “Merry Christmas,” with a silly grin, “you idiotic fool.”

Gon stands a step away like his whole system is rebooting, he’s in a daze and Killua’s not entirely sure how to bring him back.

“Don’t flirt with strangers in the middle of the night,” Killua adds, smartly. “Got it?”

“S-sure,” It’s the only thing Gon manages to say while his head tries to process what just happened. There are fireflies trapped inside his eyes, and he looks mesmerized. His cheeks are flushed and all Killua’s able to think about is—

“There are poinsettias on your cheeks,” the words escape his lips.

Fireworks can be seen and heard from far away. And if they’d listen closely they would lose themselves in the deafening sounds and the kaleidoscope of colors in the sky. Thankfully, they’re both too distracted to pay attention to the nightsky. 

_“Hey,”_ Gon playfully frowns, biting into a smile, “Don’t steal my pick up line.”

“Oh,” Killua smirks just as the ringtone of someone’s phone interrupts the midnight silence, “so you think you’re smooth.” 

_“Maybe—”_

“—Answer your call, idiot,” Killua really needs for Gon to pick up his phone and ignore him for just about two seconds. He really needs this conversation to end before it becomes harder to leave, before the new wallet on Killua’s backpocket burns a hole in his jeans. 

“Okay, okay,” Gon chuckles while his hands reach for his phone, “give me a second.” 

Killua will _literally_ give Gon a second — just one, and then he’ll go. 

“¿Leorio?” Gon calls out a name in Spanish, phone pressed against his ear. “¿Qué pasó?” he briefly turns around with a different smile painting his features, “¿Conseguiste los boletos?”

And just like that, Killua disappears into the trees, waiting until Gon finishes his phone call. Waiting until he shoves the phone back into his pocket and turns around just to find emptiness where Killua once stood. He waits until Gon’s eyes drop in disappointment when he realizes he’s not there, that Killua didn’t stay. He ignores the way he calls after him, asking for Killua to at least tell him his name. He ignores the way his heart drops, and already misses the way it's beating once bruised his chest.

He simply jumps down after Gon leaves, buys the poinsettias with stolen money like he had planned since the start. Asks the seller for directions to the nearest hotel in broken spanish, and ends up feeling stupid after guilt consumes him from an act entirely unrelated to stealing. 

It’s not like Killua wanted to kiss Gon, _really_. It was all for the wallet, there wasn’t any other way he could’ve stolen it. Not a single other way. 

_He shouldn’t have left...but he did._

Now all that’s left is a stolen wallet and some flowers to give. 

* * *

Alluka’s smile was a glowing pink as she received the flower pot full of Nochebuenas. Killua’s heart felt pink in that moment, felt soft and malleable; the taste of peaches and plums at the tip of his tongue, he felt the heat of a summer sun. But moments like this were like sand in his fists, slipping through his fingers as he remembered how he was able to buy the flowers in the first place.

He’s _definitely_ not about to tell his sister he just kissed a stranger to steal his wallet. She’ll probably think the kissing was unrelated to the stolen wallet. And, if Killua’s being honest, he really isn’t sure of why he did it anymore.

They ended up contacting Palm, and getting three tickets to Slovenia. Apparently, some guy named Kurapika lived over there — and, according to Palm, he had powerful connections that could help him and Alluka fly under the radar. Connections that could keep them both safe.

Killua’s really in debt with Palm in this one, even though she insists he’s alright. That she wishes for their safety more than anything. 

Now the three of them are safely boarding a plane towards their new destination, Killua with a stolen wallet burning in his back pocket and Alluka carrying her poinsettia flower pot as carefully as she can. 

Everything indicates that Killua’s newfound emotions will forever remain in Mexico. That this glowing pink he sometimes feels will vanish into bruising blues the moment he remembers what he left behind. But it’ll be alright, it wasn’t like it was a broken heart. It wasn’t like a love he once felt had died. 

No, this was the opposite. 

This was like ripping a sunflower from its root before it even bloomed. 

It’s a _could’ve been_ that _will never be._

But, _honestly,_ it was fine — Killua’s just being dramatic. He probably exaggerated these feelings, probably felt them deeper than most people his age — mainly because he wasn’t given the chance to feel normal or be normal. Wasn’t given the chance to experience an abundance of emotions related to other people. He’ll get past this, he’s gone through worse and he’s jumped the biggest hurdle already, which was escaping with Alluka safely.

Yes, he has all he needs, he won’t ask for more. Not that he’s worthy of more. 

But it looks like the world has a thing for surprising him. It appears that these emotions can board planes as well, because next thing Killua knows he’s sitting down on his seat that’s right next to—

“G-Gon?!” Killua exhales in disbelief. 

The same sunflower eyes from that night stare back at him, making his chest ache in pinks. And everything’s green again as Gon sighs in relief when he hears that Killua remembered his name. Not that he’ll ever forget. He has an amazing memory, and shouldn't be underestimated. 

It seems that Gon already saw him boarding the plane because his eyes are telling a different story than his.

“You stole my wallet,” Gon starts, pointendly looking at Killua just as Alluka and Palm look over their shoulders in curiosity, “ and a kiss….and perhaps more.” 

Killua feels his pulse race as a familiar heat engulfs his cheeks. It makes him feel alive, makes him feel human. 

“I think you owe me your name, I’m tired of calling you poinsettias in my head.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this little thing I came up with for my boywife
> 
> KITTY♡ THANK YOU FOR READING, HOPE U LIKED IT ♡ (hope you also got the little things I added there for you)
> 
> A lovely thank you to my betas [**Tele**](https://telehxhtrash.tumblr.com/) and [**Toasty.**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toastedtofu/pseuds/toastedtofu) My writing is wonky so it's wonderful to have people read over it kjhksjdhfkjdfh
> 
> TRANSLATIONS
> 
> 1\. "¿Qué pasó?" -> "What happened?" although a less literal translation and more accurate one would be "What's up?"  
> 2\. "¿Conseguiste los boletos?" -> "Did you get the tickets?"
> 
> You're welcome to bother me at my [**Tumblr**](https://wordsbymarcy.tumblr.com/) or [**Twitter!**](https://twitter.com/marcymore) Make me your friend.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!! Leave a comment if you can!! Sending all of you love, wash your hands, take care of yourselves :)
> 
> _Marcy._


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